


Opposite Intentions

by ShadowsOffense



Category: Legend of the Seeker
Genre: Battle, Canon-Typical Violence, Challenge Response, Eventual Smut, F/F, Families of Choice, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Getting Together, Pre-Relationship, eventually more fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-16
Updated: 2014-06-27
Packaged: 2018-02-04 22:53:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1796206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShadowsOffense/pseuds/ShadowsOffense
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wizard’s 6th rule:  In rejecting reason, refusing to think, one embraces death.  Wizard’s 3rd rule: Passion rules reason, for better or worse.  Wizard’s 2nd rule:  the greatest harm can result from the best intentions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Blunder of the First Order

Zedd didn’t know what to do. The muscles in his back ached, and he slouched forward, resting his forearms on his knees. He was too old to be shepherding children, children who, despite what they saw and did every day, hadn’t quite gotten a grasp on their own mortality. He frowned. Or were Mord’Sith and understood, but simply didn’t care.

It wasn’t that he didn’t empathize, he grumped to himself, inhaling deeply. Ash and wood smoke from their smoldering fire tasted astringent in the back of his throat, but under that lay a crisp coolness from the fall evening and a faint hint of oncoming rain. Zedd understood them, all too well. Two nations had paid for the blindness of his youth, his passions. Was it too much to want to keep them safe? Because that was all he wanted, to keep everyone he loved safe.

Zedd half wondered where Kahlan could have possibly gotten the idealism to question the irrevocable truth of confessor magic. But he knew that answer. Richard. For a Seeker of Truth to believe that strongly there was a way around… it was no wonder Kahlan had responded to that. It was the, well, not quite a lie, but the uncertainty they both wanted to be true. Wizard’s First Rule. Zedd nodded to himself.

At least those two had had enough self-preservation instincts that a few well timed interruptions, a carefully cleared throat here or there, had kept them far enough apart for their passions to cool. The habit of forced chastity had slowly melted into the real thing in a way that would have relieved Zedd, if it had not been due to the rising passion between Kahlan and Cara which eclipsed it.

He was shamed to say he had done nothing to prevent it in the beginning. Not even Richard had been able to get under Kahlan’s composure the way Cara had. From the start friction between the two had been a lightening field of emotion, hate mostly, and lust. And Zedd had done nothing to diffuse the dangerous situation; if the Mord’Sith was killed, so much the better.

By the time he had come to care about Cara’s fate it had been too late and Zedd was fighting a loosing battle. Cara’s passions were too hot and, he suspected, the danger just fueled her on. Unless something happened, the Mord’Sith was going to die. 

He didn’t have a choice any longer, loathed as he was to do it.

Standing with limbs creaking he shuffled over to Kahlan’s slumbering form. It was his watch; they were relying on him to keep them safe. “And that’s just what I’m doing,” he spoke to his guilt in Kahlan’s trusting, relaxed features. A thought created an ethereal globe of faint green light in his hand. “It’s just a minor spell; more of a joke than magic, really. It will make you less self-assured, only when it comes to Cara.” With reluctance, Zedd tilted his hand and let the light fall like water into Kahlan’s skin. The confessor shuffled a little in her sleep as the magic sank into her. It would be more effective if he could have spelled the Mord’Sith instead, but, hopefully, this would keep things from progressing until a more permanent solution could be found.

* * *

A bolt of lighting arched in the clouds overhead and Cara watched in amazement as it fractured and split its way through the sky. Thunder shook the trees a moment later. It never rained like this in D’Hara. 

“Cara!” Slim cold fingers grabbed Cara’s own. “Come on!”

Kahlan tugged Cara through the false night, seeming almost like a ghost herself as the rain lashed at them.

A dark form loomed in front of them suddenly and Cara let out a yelp of surprise as she was unceremoniously pulled into prickly foliage. Before she could form a protest she discovered herself standing at the base of a giant evergreen; the dim light enough to see by now that the rain was no longer blinding her. The confessor let go of her hand and started squeezing water out of her hair as Cara looked around with curiosity.

“It’s a Wayfarers Pine,” Kahlan volunteered, flipping her hair back over her shoulder.

Cara nodded. The needles under her boots were dry even though the storm raged above them. She could see how the tree could get such a name. With a sigh she unstrung her bow. “I guess we should have gone fishing instead.”

Kahlan grimaced. “I’d rather not be by the river with this much water coming down,” she chided, trying to wipe the water from her face with an equally wet hand. Cara watched with interest at the way the confessor’s clothes clung to her. “I hope Zedd and Richard managed to get to shelter. There were only a few clouds this morning; I thought we’d have until dusk before the storm got here.” Kahlan grumbled. “Fall weather is so unpredictable.”

Cara shrugged. They had shelter now. Taking a cloth scrap from her pouch she sat and began drying her bow. Kahlan sat down next to her, relaxing her shoulders against the trunk, but kept her head turned in Cara’s direction. Under the confessor’s gaze, the Mord’Sith fell into a rhythm as she worked, rubbing the soft cloth against the polished wood. 

After a few moments Cara glanced up from her work, the prolonged silence from the normally chatty woman piquing her curiosity. Kahlan blushed and looked away when she realized Cara was looking at her.

Cara raised an eyebrow.

“Are you cold?” Cara asked as Kahlan shifted uncomfortably and pulled her knees close to her chest. “I could probably get a fire started under here.”

“No,” Kahlan smiled at her quickly before looking away again. “I’m alright,” she said to the pine needles.

Cara grinned at the confessor. “Is something else bothering you, then?” she asked, a little smugly.

Abruptly she frowned as Kahlan seemed to shrink in on herself in response to Cara’s teasing. “It’s not important,” the confessor still wasn’t looking at her.

Genuinely concerned, Cara set her bow aside. “Kahlan, what is it?”

“Nothing!” Color burned brightly in Kahlan’s cheeks as the words tumbled from her rapidly. “I said I’m fine, leave it alone already!”

“Fine,” hurt flashed across her face as Cara crossed her arms and slouched back against the tree. Thunder rumbled through the sky, trapping her there; she wished for a perimeter to go check.

“Cara, I’m sorry,” the confessor was looking at her with suddenly sad eyes.

“You’re fine, I get it,” Cara said sharply, sick to death of talking. 

“Please Cara,” a hand touched her shoulder. 

Letting out an annoyed huff of air, Cara rolled her head to look up into Kahlan’s eyes as the woman kneeled next to her. Still fighting the desire to just take off into the storm, Cara wanted to hold onto her anger. But everything in Kahlan’s posture held an apology. Her hand on Cara’s shoulder felt like it weighed more than was physically possible, keeping her in place.

“I was embarrassed,” Kahlan’s eyes drifted shut, as if she was gathering courage from the darkness, and she appeared to come to some kind of internal conclusion. “I was watching you and you were so…” her eyes opened and color rose in her cheeks again. “Spirits Cara, I shouldn’t feel this for you. When you looked at me, all of a sudden I couldn’t stand the thought of you knowing. It felt like the world might end if you did.”

Cara snorted. “I’m Mord’Sith, Kahlan,” she reminded dryly. “I’m the last person to be bothered by that. You needn’t feel shame for your desires because of me, Confessor. Besides…” Cara trailed off. Besides, she thought it had been obvious. Kahlan had matched her look for look, touch for touch; had the confessor truly been unaware of the meaning of their interactions?

“Besides?” Kahlan asked, curiously. She looked almost hopeful.

Cara opened her mouth and shut it. She didn’t know how to have this conversation. If it were anyone else she would have been back out in the rain by now or into bed. _Fuck it._ There really was too much talking.

Cara wrapped her hand around the back of the confessor’s head and pulled their mouths together. The danger of kissing the unprepared was that Kahlan’s lips, slack with surprise, gave too much under Cara’s mouth, her teeth catching painfully on Cara’s lower lip. The bite, not quite hard enough to draw blood, made Cara groan as Kahlan gasped in surprise. The Mord’Sith was barely able to restrain from pulling them together more forcefully, settling for keeping their lips together in an almost chaste manner as Kahlan’s teeth released her.

The confessor was starting to melt into the kiss as it continued, her surprise giving way to participation. Her lips had begun to move gently against Cara’s when suddenly she stiffened and tried to pull away. Briefly, Cara’s hand tightened in Kahlan’s hair, forcing them together before she remembered who she was with. They ended up too close together for talking but far enough apart that they were, technically, no longer kissing.

“Cara,” Kahlan’s lips ghostingly moved against hers as the confessor spoke, but she didn’t try to pull away again. Cara braced herself for rejection. “Cara, my magic.”

Tension left Cara frame as the words sank in. She rolled her eyes. “You’re that close to loosing control already?” she teased, the chuckle in her voice smothered by frustration and need.

“Cara!” Kahlan sat back on her heels and smacked Cara’s shoulder, hard. “This isn’t funny. I can’t…” Exasperatedly, she shook her head. “Something’s wrong; I don’t know what to do with myself when I’m with you!”

Cara knew this conversation was important, but the confessor’s chest was arresting her attention. Kahlan’s skin still glistened with moisture and there was a freckle just under the laces of her bodice Cara longed to explore with her tongue. “Can’t you just feel, Kahlan,” Cara practically whined. The confessor always pulled away when their interactions got too close, before teasing became something more. But this time she seemed to be letting Cara lead and Cara _wanted,_ she wanted so much. “Please Kahlan, I’ll stop when you tell me to stop. Please, let me touch you.”

Immediately Cara hated the begging tone her voice had adopted without her permission, but Kahlan was looking at her. Like she couldn’t believe Cara was real. Her gaze lidded and intense, Cara nearly died when Kahlan’s tongue peaked out between her lips to wet them. “Please Kahlan,” she begged again.

And slowly, with hesitation and an embarrassed flush, the confessor nodded her permission. “You’ll stop?” the Confessor’s tone screamed helplessness and Cara quivered with the effort not to pounce.

“I’ll stop,” Cara lifted her hand to Kahlan’s cheek, closing her own eyes to seek courage in the darkness. She could almost pretend it wasn’t her voice saying such pathetic things as the confessor’s sudden vulnerability demanded she respond in kind. “Whatever you can give, Kahlan, I’ll take whatever you’re comfortable with. _I just want you._ Even if all you want to do is nothing more than this.”

Because her eyes were closed, she missed the way Kahlan’s body seemed to ripple as a ghostly light fell away from her and suddenly Cara was being kissed. “I want you too, Cara,” the confessor whispered against her mouth and Cara felt what little self-restraint she currently possessed fall away.

Tongues came into play, and Cara trailed her hands up Kahlan’s waist to the front of her dress. Mouth occupied, she tugged on the laces forcefully to let Kahlan know what she had in mind, asking silent permission. In return, she felt an answering tug on her belt as a hot tongue licked the roof of her mouth. Wasting no time, Cara deftly undid the laces before Kahlan had managed to do more than unbuckled Cara’s belt. Ignoring the confessor’s moan of protest, Cara pulled away to kiss the newly uncovered skin.

The moan changed to a hum of approval as Cara’s lips traced a warm trail down Kahlan’s neck to the freckle she had noted earlier. Reaching her destination, Cara laved the spot with her tongue, tasting rain water. Unable to resist, she bit down lightly and Kahlan’s hands tangled themselves in her hair.

“Cara,” Kahlan gasped, her fingers clenching and unclenching rhythmically against her.

“Kahlan,” Cara teased, pressing another kiss to the spot before playfully rubbing her rain-chilled nose against Kahlan’s cleavage.

The confessor squealed and used her grip in Cara hair to yank the Mord’Sith away. “Cara!” Kahlan laughed. “Don’t _do_ that!”

“As you wish, Confessor,” Cara’s grin was almost giddy and she pressed a quick kiss to the corner of Kahlan’s mouth. “Stand up so I can get this off?” she pushed apart the open front of the confessor’s travel dress, making her meaning clear.

Kahlan nodded and released her grip on Cara. The Mord’Sith knelt in front of her as Kahlan slide the garment off. As soon as it was free, Cara began unbuckling the daggers from Kahlan’s thighs. She took care to brush her hands against the silky flesh in a gentle caress as she stripped Kahlan of her weapons. Setting them aside one at a time, Cara finally joined Kahlan on her feet, the confessor left only in her boots and shift.

“Your turn,” Kahlan whispered, reaching again for Cara’s belt.

“Wait!” Cara grabbed her agiels before Kahlan could touch them accidentally. One brush could spoil all the arousal she had worked to build in the confessor. It was something they could try later when things weren’t so delicate. 

Kahlan smiled knowingly as Cara set her weapons next to the confessor’s daggers, making the Mord’Sith feel vaguely embarrassed. “It isn’t that I think you’re weak,” Cara blurted. _What is it about Kahlan that dismantles the connection between my thoughts and my mouth anyway?_ She thought with a grimace. She kept saying the most inane things.

“And I don’t think it’s weak when you show you care, Cara,” Kahlan returned. She lifted one of Cara’s hands and carefully worked the glove free as she spoke, dropping it to the needled floor. Kissing the palm, she set Cara’s hand against her waist and reached for the other one.

“You are like nothing I’ve ever known,” Cara said softly, stroking the confessor’s hip with her thumb as her other hand was freed.

Kahlan shrugged. “This is outside my experience as well.” She bit her lip. “I don’t know how much further we can go,” she said warningly, a hint of apology in her eyes.

Cara felt her own features sharpen. “Don’t. Stop thinking,” she demanded, capturing Kahlan’s hands and moving them back to her belt. Working together they pulled the leather strip free and loosened the laces of the Mord’Sith’s top until she could pull it off over her head.

As Kahlan had done for her, Cara pressed a kiss to each of Kahlan’s palms and pressed them against her flesh. “Please don’t tell me to stop just yet,” she breathed as Kahlan’s fingers stroked experimentally down her sides.

The confessor stared at her hands on Cara’s skin, seemingly enthralled, and Cara wondered if Kahlan had even heard her. A drop of water landed on Cara’s skin and she glanced up at the branches above them. A second drop landed and Cara realized the confessor was crying. “Kahlan?”

“You don’t want me to stop?” Kahlan looked up at her and Cara was startled to see the blue was half gone from her eyes. Gooseflesh rippled down her arms as Cara felt the pit of her stomach drop away.

“Can you control it?” she asked, her voice thick with need. Spirits, this was a confessor touching her. She shivered as she felt the blood rush away from her head.

“I don’t think so,” Kahlan groan in frustration and pulled herself away.

Cara groaned too, squeezing her eyes closed as she fought what was surely a suicidal impulse.

“Take off your shift,” Cara commanded, before Kahlan could start re-dressing.

“Cara,” Kahlan frowned. Her determination faltered at the look on Cara’s face. Slowly, she slipped it off.

Cara backed Kahlan into the tree as the Confessor moved to keep their skin from touching. “Cara?”

Cara took one of the confessor’s hands and brought it to the place between Kahlan’s thighs. Her own fingers stroked the coarse curls there, briefly, as she pressed Kahlan’s hand to where the confessor needed it. “Touch yourself,” she whispered, removing her hand to brace against the tree trunk and shifting her own body close enough to feel the heat rising from the other woman. 

With wide eyes, Kahlan’s fingers moved marginally against herself. She froze as Cara leaned forward and blew a gust of hot air across one of the confessor’s nipples. With a quick glance into Kahlan’s eyes, Cara placed a kiss there. “Go ahead,” she urged to frozen confessor.

Kahlan’s throat bobbed as she swallowed and her hand began to rub between her legs. Cara inhaled deeply, as the air around them grew musky with Kahlan scent and the hand Cara wasn’t using to support her dipped into her own pants. “Yes, Kahlan,” she breathed into the confessor’s ear.

“Cara,” the Confessor’s hips were moving in earnest now. Cara longed to help support her, or better yet, use her weight to pin the Confessor in place as she sunk her own fingers inside Kahlan.

Thunder without sound resounded inside their shelter and it took Cara a moment to realize it wasn’t from the storm as the hair on the back of her neck rose in response. Kahlan’s hand still worked between her legs, but her grip over her magic had clearly been lost. A second storm had been unleashed, and Cara watched in awe as she stood mere inches from death, magic shaking the air around her. Another tingle passed through her skin and Cara’s gaze moved to where her hand braced against the tree trunk, eyes widening. _Stupid!_ Cara held her breath as Kahlan panted under her, unaware of their mistake. The Mord'Sith gasped at feeling the of confessor’s magic rippling within her and unexplicably letting her go.

“Spirits, Cara!” Kahlan moaned desperately, drawing Cara’s focus back to the immediate. 

“I’m here,” she responded as the Confessor groaned her name again, unable to believe what had happened. “I’m here.” 

Something within Cara surged with glee. Barely, she stopped herself from interfering, not wanting to rob the confessor of her impeding orgasm as the woman started to shake and released another ineffectual pulse of magic into the Mord'Sith. Cara knew physical contact at this moment would be like ice water for Kahlan; there would be time later. For now, Cara watched as Kahlan arched into her own hand.

“Have you come?” was the first thing Kahlan asked as she regained her senses.

Cara raised an eyebrow. “Care to help?” she asked, the other matter dying in her throat, unsaid, as Kahlan's hand cupped her breast. There was still time later for explanations; it would be better to have their talk when there wasn’t a very distracting, naked, confessor, anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Zedd's spell (supplied by randomizer for the challenge): the Ethereal Globe of Low Self-Esteem


	2. Actions Speak Louder Than Words

It was amid the clash of steel, in a pause just after her current opponent had fallen with a truncated scream, the fight still raging around her, that Cara had her epiphany. Then she was grappling a man away from Richard, the Seeker really _had_ to learn to watch his back, but the realization remained. She knew how to let Kahlan know she was immune to confession.

Obviously, just telling her had been out. Cara’s breath caught as she hit the ground a split second after the man she had tackled and tucked into a controlled roll back to her feet. Cara had had the perfect chance to just tell Kahlan as they lay, spent, at the giant pine’s base waiting for the last of the storm to end. Try as she might, Cara had been unable to force words into the soft sounds of the rain and Kahlan’s whispery breathing against her shoulder. If she didn’t have the vocabulary to tell the confessor she wanted to _bed_ her, Cara certainly didn’t have the words to explain _this_. 

Cara’s opponent was staggering to his feet slowly and Cara didn’t give him a chance to rise. Lunging, her agiel drove into the side of his temple, knocking him cold. They could question this one. Cara grinned over his prone form and scanned to battle field for a new adversary. Telling Kahlan would have meant using words like loyalty and devotion, which belonged to the Lord Rahl… mostly, and weren’t quite strong enough anyway. 

A flash of motion caught Cara’s eye and she ducked to the side as steel whistled passed. Dropping into a crouch, Cara thrust her agiel into a backwards sweep behind her. It was a difficult move to doge, because of the angle and because it was often so unexpected. Most fighters needed visual confirmation to aim accurately, and, without that, it was a very risky move as it provided both a height advantage and an exposed back to a lesser fighter’s assailant. Cara’s aim ensured she provided none of those things as her agiel struck the man’s poorly armored leg. Standing, Cara turned to face him; herself, now, with the advantage.

The soldier turned out to be a decent fighter and managed to get his sword up to block her killing stroke. As they began to duel, Cara flowing into rote parries and trusts delivered with expeditious speed that had the man struggling to keep up, her mind turned back to her dilemma with Kahlan. Showing the confessor during sex had seemed equally impossible. Orgasm denial was a _punishment_ , she couldn’t imagine a less deserving creature than Kahlan. The confessor was already too used to denying herself; it was something Cara wanted to rid her of, not cause. And she could never bring herself to do it by the sheer terror Kahlan would feel in the instant she thought Cara confessed. Besides— Cara caught the sword between her agiels and twisted, hoping to disarm her opponent, but he managed to keep a grip on his blade. Besides, shocked out of her arousal, Kahlan might not actually release her magic, so the whole thing would be pointless.

Tiring of the fight, Cara slammed her boot into the soldier’s agiel burned knee, dropping him with a crunch of bone. As he drew breath for a belated scream, her agiel put him out of his misery. Stepping away from the corpse, Cara grinned; her new plan was perfect. Now all she need was a chance to implement it.

With the fight ended, Cara walked over to the man she had knocked out and pressed her fingers under his jaw, checking for a pulse. A faint flutter reward her. Casually, she knocked his weapons away. A few light slaps to his face brought him around.

“Kahlan!” Cara called, pinning the man in place. The confessor looked over and immediately assessed the situation.

Cara waited until Kahlan had a good grip on the soldier’s throat before she released him and took a step back. Only after Cara nodded permission, subtly slipping off her own glove as she did so, did the confessor’s eyes begin shifting to black. Cara waited until the blue was totally eclipsed and then lunged, wrapping her own hand around Kahlan’s just as the confessor released her magic.

Three things happened in quick succession after that: The confessed fell to his knees, the standard plea falling from his now adoring lips. Kahlan, Richard, and Zedd all shouted Cara’s name with various proportions of shock and horror. Cara let go of Kahlan’s hand a stepped back with a half smug, half apologetic expression.

“Now you know,” she said, mildly. The she turned to begin helping Zedd and Richard pile the bodies together for burning. She actually had hold of a dead man’s arm before anyone had recovered enough to speak.

Naturally, Kahlan got the first word. “Now I _know!?_ ” Her skin was pale and her nostrils flared. “ _Now_ I know?!” she repeated with greater volume.

“Mistress?” her confessed begged, alarmed at her rage.

“Shut up!” Kahlan snapped at him, not looking away from Cara. “ _Now I know?!_ ” she shouted again. The Mord’Sith was starting to think she had made a mistake.

“Yes,” she said, warily. “Now you know.”

The confessor’s mouth opened and closed with soundless rage. Then she whirled and stalked to the opposite side of the clearing. With jerky motions she began vigorously cleaning the gore from her daggers.

Looking back to Richard and Zedd, who were gaping, and Kahlan’s newly confessed, who had started to cry, Cara _knew_ she had made a mistake. “She’ll talk to me again, right?” she asked the men, unable to keep the worry from her voice. It was starting to look like her immunity might be a moot point if Kahlan never let her touch her again.


	3. Sympathy for the Devil

Kahlan’s tone was as smooth as glass as she told Richard she was heading to the stream they’d been following to wash off the filth from the battle. She didn’t ignore so much as refuse to see Cara’s hopeful face in the background. Reducing the Mord’Sith to nothing more than a red clad figure caused only a momentary pang of guilt. If Kahlan let herself start thinking now, start feeling beyond the shelter of her anger, she didn’t know if she’d be able to stop.

The rage sustained her down the canyon’s surprisingly gentle slope, breaking branches as she shoved her way through hapless sections of underbrush with unconsciously sharp motions. In return she earned a few new scratches which stung as they started to scab over. 

She stumbled when she found herself suddenly on even ground, her foot hitting the dirt higher than she expected to find it. In three large steps Kahlan emerged into sunlight at the stream’s edge and stood, staring at the water blankly.

Everywhere she looked was softly lit and so green it seemed to glow; moss covered the giant, water worn boulders and even the stream reflected emerald foliage. Green, except where sunlight shimmered white on ripples in the water’s surface. Slowly sounds of the forest began to re-emerge as the violence of her passage faded away and she made no more alarming movements. At any other time she would have pronounced the setting lovely.

Eventually, Kahlan’s mind started working again.

The phrase _‘how dare she’_ kept repeating in her head, simultaneously an expression of Kahlan’s disbelief and her outrage. It was the only truly coherent thought she had, as of yet, and by far the most polite. Her hands shook and she looked down at them as if they were wholly disconnected from her body. 

Bile rose in the back of Kahlan’s throat and she narrowly avoided retching. _You know whose hands they are._ Resolutely Kahlan ignored the little voice. Mechanically she sought the appearance of calm, forcing lie to become fact as her face molded back into an expressionless mask. _A confessor’s face and a confessor’s hands,_ her mind taunted her. _Mother Confessor._

Kahlan’s hands shook harder as a new voice rose, from her memory. _Papy, I need my hands, please Papy. I won’t, I wouldn’t—_ A tear slid down Kahlan’s cheek, crying now as she had then. _Confessors always kill those they love, girl,_ her father’s voice, harsh with a bitterness so deep Kahlan could barely fathom it, shouted from her past. _It’s what you are._

_It’s what you are._

_What you are._

_Confessor. Killer._

_“No!!!”_ Kahlan shouted. Wrapping her arms around her chest, Kahlan whimpered. “She’s alive,” the confessor whispered. “She’s alive.” Cara was alive, unconfessed. _No thanks to you,_ her conscious reminded. Kahlan closed her eyes. She had sworn she’d never do such a thing, never use her powers on someone she loved, never create another version of her father.

How could Cara have done it? Taken the choice away from her like that. _How could she? How **dare** she._

A sob choked Kahlan’s breathing as she stopped it in her throat before it could emerge. _Stop it, you’re being silly._ She was standing alone, in the middle of a forest, crying. _Get a grip._

Kahlan wiped her eyes, trying, but unable to force back the tears. How dare Cara force Kahlan to be her enslaver. Had Cara known, _she had to have known,_ she was immune? _How_ had she known?

And why didn’t she tell Kahlan before? The confessor fisted her hands. Why hadn’t Cara told her when they were, well, when they were intimate? Kahlan had thought that time was special. She had thought Cara… thought she felt…. Kahlan cut off the word, unwilling to even think… what she had been about to think. 

Kahlan had never let her guard down with anyone that much before.

Why hadn’t Cara told her then? _Why did Cara tell me to_ , Kahlan blushed, for an instant able to feel Cara’s breath on her cheek, _touch myself?_ Had it all been a game? A challenge? 

_No._

Kahlan didn’t know what, she didn’t know _why_ , but she knew that wasn’t it. Cara would have never used her like that.

But why hadn’t Cara told her?

“Kahlan?” a hand closed on her shoulder.

Before she knew she was moving, Kahlan had her daggers in her hands and jerked free of the loose grip.

“Easy, easy,” Richard put up his hands, a worried look on his face. “Sorry,” he said as she blinked at him. “I didn’t mean to startle you; that’s the third time I called your name.”

“Richard!” heat flooded her face and she relaxed her weapons, sheathing them a heartbeat later. “What are you doing here?” she wiped a hand across her face to hide her tears and raised her chin, as a confessor must.

“Looking out for my friends,” his warm eyes bore into hers; compassionate, but stern. Under that look, the natural equivocation on her lips remained unsaid; it had been a foolish thought anyway. Between them, even the falsehood of a half-truth was as obvious as the sun in the sky. They both forced honesty, even when a lie would be kinder, which was perhaps the larger reason why they had been unable to make it work as a couple.

“Go away, Richard,” she said, instead. Which was what she wanted; she didn’t need an audience for this.

“No, I don’t think so.” The sheer _mildness_ of his refusal was offense in the extreme. 

Kahlan gaped unable to speak through her suddenly rekindled anger. The black mood which had been boiling inside her since Cara had grabbed her hand roared to life again. A part of Kahlan wanted to warn Richard what he has loosed inside of her. 

She was sick of people taking her choices away from her.

“You need to talk to Cara,” he continued in her outraged silence. “But I’m not going to let you do that until you’ve calmed down some. So, if you’ve got to yell at someone, yell at me. She doesn’t deserve it.”

“She doesn’t _deserve_ it!” Abstractly Kahlan wondered when she had lost the ability to create sentences of her own, surprised outrage again reducing her to mimicry. It was easier to focus on how she was speaking than the conversation itself. “You’re defending her?” she added in a flat voice.

Richard ran a hand through his hair. “I know she scared you, she scared me too. But what did you expect? Cara’s not exactly the type of person to just announce she’s in love with you.” His lips turned down in disapproval. “Your reaction really hurt her, you know.”

Kahlan’s face went slack, maintaining a confessor’s appearance suddenly the last thing on her mind. Her hand groped behind her as she sank onto the nearest boulder. “She loves me?” she questioned, her voice soft with hope and fragile in disbelief.

Richard’s mouth pulled into a stunned ‘o’ and he crouched down next to her, instantly sympathetic. “She had to be,” he told her gently. “To survive confession and keep her will, she had to love you more than she loved her own life.”

It was one shock too many; Kahlan’s mind stopped working again, sputtering to a halt. From Richard’s newly apologetic expression, he seemed to realize she was frozen in place. “You didn’t know,” his words seemed to be directed as much to himself as they were to her.

“No,” Kahlan answered him anyway. A laugh bubbled up from her throat, turning slightly hysterical. _Cara nearly killed herself because she loves me._ It was absurd. Insane. Kahlan dropped her head into her hands, her shoulders shaking.

“Kahlan?” Richard asked hesitantly. His tone made her wish she had enough control to look up and see the face he was making right then. “Are you ok?”

“No!” Kahlan gasped again, the words bursting forth. “My ex just confessed my- _Cara’s_ undying love for me because she was too, too _Mord’Sith_ , to tell me herself! After she nearly scared me to death in some kind of moronic attempt to _show_ me by _confessing_ herself!” Kahlan’s chest heaved as she stopped speaking, her helpless laughter finally halted. “Spirits,” she flexed her fingers against her forehead, pressing her face further into her hands. “I’d kill her for this if she wasn’t immune.”

Richard didn’t respond except to rest a hand on her shoulder, letting Kahlan sit quietly as her emotions began to sort themselves out. Cara’s face, the one Kahlan hadn’t let herself see as she left, presented itself in her mind. She realized, now, that the Mord’Sith’s expression hadn’t been _hopeful_ but _pleading_. Cara had been looking at her with the same fearful desperation Kahlan recognized from when Cara had all but begged to be allowed to touch her. _Now_ Kahlan felt awful. She was still mad and hurt from Cara’s actions, but she understood.

_What Cara must be feeling._

“Spirits,” Kahlan whispered a second time, finally raising her head. “I have to talk to her.”

“You do,” Richard smiled and placed a hand on her shoulder. “But you might as well get washed off first; she’s not going anywhere and you’re already here.”

“Right,” Kahlan moved to wade into the stream, content to leave ‘washing’ as a cursory scrubbing in the shallows to remove the worst of the blood splatters. She _had_ to get back to Cara.


	4. Confessions

Zeddicus Zul Zorander, Wizard of the First Order, was no longer certain that one Mord’Sith Cara Mason would not, in fact, be responsible for his death; her latest stunt had frightened him half into the grave! That fact that she wasn’t dead, herself, was a miracle of no small proportion. Zedd scowled as he moved towards the red clad form some distance off from the former battle field, a sleeve held over his nose to ward off the scent of burnt flesh.

“Cara,” he called. “Are you done with the waterskin yet? I let Richard take the others to be refilled. Cara?”

As if her churlish and sophomoric behavior earlier wasn’t enough, she had to ignore him now? Was it really so surprising that everyone was upset with her? Grumbling under his breath Zedd stomped the rest of the way over to her. When would Cara get it through her head that _she mattered to them!_

The brief sight of worry on her face, before she realized he was there and turned quickly away, drew him up short.

“Can I help you with something, Wizard?” she asked him acerbically, keeping her face adverted.

“I was wondering if you were done with the water yet?” Zedd’s voice unconsciously gentled as he replied. For obvious reasons, Cara had foregone joining the others at the stream, choosing to use a wetted cloth to clean off as best she could.

“Here.” With jerky motions she unslung the skin from over her shoulder and thrust it backwards at him.

“Cara…” Zedd took the water from her automatically.

Cara turned back around, a weak faux-cocky expression plastered on her face. “Something else, Wizard?” Her eyes belied her smirk, seeming to latch on to him. Zedd wondered who had taught her how to do that; how to hug with her eyes, pretending to stand alone, when touch was forbidden.

Well, Zedd shoved the question aside, touch wasn’t forbidden now. He set a hand on her shoulder, feeling Cara’s muscles tense under the touch. “Kahlan’s only upset because she cares about you,” Zedd ignored Cara’s discomfort as his voice gentled further. “It will be alright.”

“Wizard,” Cara said in a warning tone.

“She’ll come around,” Zedd smiled at Cara’s piqued expression, squeezing her shoulder before dropping his hand away. “I take it you’re going to wait here?”

Cara glanced behind him, in the direction Zedd knew Kahlan’s confessed waited and pursed her lips. “Yes.”

“Would you allow an old man the favor of waiting with you?”

“I don’t care where you wait,” Cara told him, her tone suggesting another possibility of where he _could_ wait. Graciously, Zedd ignored the impolite subtext; her eyes were grateful and that was enough for him for now.

* * *

An impassioned voice, brimming with love and devotion, greeted Kahlan as she returned.

“MISTRESS!!” the man she had confessed jumped up from were he had been sitting, alone, and made a formal salute, fist to chest. He trembled as he waited for her acknowledgement and Kahlan felt a surge of pity; she hadn’t treated this one very well. If Cara had been made into something as pathetic as this… Kahlan forced the thought away. It hadn’t happened. She took a deep breath, nearly trembling herself, as she recalled everything else Richard had revealed.

“It’s alright,” she reassured the soldier. “Where are the others?”

“Over there, Mistress,” The man gestured towards the woods on the other side of the field as Richard came up behind them. “I can show you,” the Confessed added eagerly.

“No,” Kahlan forced a patient smile to her face. “I can find them myself; stay with Richard and do as he says.”

“Yes, Mistress,” the man saluted again and Kahlan barely restrained herself from telling him to stop that. A damp lock of hair fell forward into her face and she brushed it back with an absent motion. This was it.

“Go ahead,” Richard prompted her with an encouraging smile.

Her smile back was strained and she forced her feet to start moving before she could think too hard about… _anything._

Cara’s red leather amidst the foliage was easy to spot, seated next to Zedd against a large boulder. Her eyes snapped up to find Kahlan’s as the Confessor approached, both hurt and wary, and Kahlan had to try twice to make her throat work. “Cara,” her greeting emerged in a confessor’s tone and Kahlan immediately wished she could take it back as Cara’s expression closed off a little more.

“Kahlan,” Cara’s greeting was equally neutral and the weight of it hit Kahlan like a punch. Standing, the Mord’Sith brushed a hand across her pants in a habitual cleansing gesture, watching to see Kahlan’s response.

“Well,” Zedd glanced between the two and climbed stiffly to his feet. “I’ll just go see—”

“No need,” Kahlan cut him off quickly. “Cara, could you come with me please?”

Cara inclined her head fractionally and Kahlan finally relaxed enough to smile slightly at the familiar gesture, although the slight quirk to her lips faded quickly as her nervousness returned. Neither of them had moved yet; there was such distance and fear between them, it felt wrong; Cara looked like she expected to be led like a prisoner. Slowly, Kahlan reached out her hand for Cara’s.

The Mord’Sith looked down at Kahlan’s hand and back up into the confessor’s eyes. Kahlan watched as hope blossomed and was quickly shut away on Cara’s face. Peripherally, she was aware of Zedd in the background, who seemed intent on achieving a kind of motionless invisibility so as not to disturb them. Kahlan held her breath as Cara gingerly placed her hand in the confessor’s. 

The weight of Cara’s hand resting in hers unexpectedly brought tears to her eyes. _This_ was what had allowed Cara to survive confession. 

It astounded her, Cara’s courage astounded her. She wasn’t trusting Kahlan not to hurt her, reject her, she was just… just… Kahlan’s thoughts dissolved into a burst of emotion; compassion, heartache, and love all tangled together.

She acted impulsively, using their joined hands to jerk Cara into a hug, using not just her arms, but her entire body, to embrace the Mord’Sith. Cara held herself stiffly for a moment, before her hands moved slowly to Kahlan’s waist and rested there as her body relaxed. It wasn’t exactly a return hug, but it was more that Kahlan had expected, more than Cara just letting herself be held.

“I’m sorry,” Kahlan murmured, resting her head on Cara’s shoulder before she could stop herself. “I- I owe you an explanation.” Squeezing her eyes shut, Kahlan took a deep breath and then pulled back from the embrace. “And you owe me one as well. But I don’t think I can do this standing still.” To say she had butterflies in her stomach would be a gross understatement; her nerves felt like they were trying to join together and master the art of teleportation. Her hands slide to Cara’s and she gripped them tightly in order to keep herself from fleeing. “So,” Kahlan tilted her head and tried for a smile. “Walk with me?”

Cara inclined her head, a soft sound escaping her lips that could have been from either relief or exasperation, Kahlan wasn’t sure which. If this had been a less charged encounter, Cara would have surely made a sarcastic remark about how Kahlan had just spent a longer time talking about walking than it would take them to get to wherever they were going. Somewhat sheepishly, Kahlan let one of the Mord’Sith’s hands fall, but kept a firm grasp on the other, a light tug setting them in motion.

* * *

Cara’s eyes flicked sideways at Kahlan before refocusing on the trail. As a general rule, Mord’Sith did not get nervous. As a general rule they didn’t hold hands with confessors who had recently stormed away from them in outrage, either. And as a very firm, no exceptions, this is the direction the sun rises rule, Kahlan didn’t remain silent after she proclaimed a desire to talk about emotions. So, clearly, the rules were being broken.

Cara had to admit the walking helped, letting a little of her tension bleed away before it became unbearable. Pain was a more effective outlet, but she didn’t reach for her agiels. She wouldn’t give in before Kahlan did.

Her eyes flicked over at Kahlan again. Sooner or later the confessor would speak.

Sooner or later.

“I’m sorry.” Cara snapped her mouth shut, too late to stop the words from escaping.

“Are you?”

She inhaled testily. Confessors. “No,” Cara admitted reluctantly. “I mean yes, but not for what I did.” She kept her face as bland as she could. “I’m sorry it hurt you. Emotionally.” 

A sideways glance at Kahlan’s eyes found them watery. Biting the inside of her cheek, Cara looked away, finding herself scanning the forest for signs of danger out of habit. If she thought of this conversation as just another thing she had to do to protect Kahlan, she could get through it. 

“Cara,” Kahlan’s fingers tightened on Cara’s own. “I’m sorry I-”

“You didn’t hurt me,” Cara cut her off quickly.

“I’m still sorry for the way I reacted,” Kahlan’s tone toed the line between prohibiting Cara from objecting again and daring her to do so. 

The Mord’Sith opened her mouth and then closed it again. “Fine,” she said flatly. Exhaling through her nose, Cara caught the corner of Kahlan’s lips twitch upward in the periphery of her vision. 

Silence wrapped itself around them again as they continued to move down the game trail. Somehow it was less forbidding. Cara looked down at her hand, still tangled with the confessor’s. Was this it, fight over? She wanted to ask, but Cara was uncertain how to phrase the question. _Is this, are we… what? Alright?_ Cara frowned. Kahlan had apparently forgiven her; things could get back to normal… except they couldn’t. Because they weren’t the same. Supposedly, according to Zedd anyway, she loved Kahlan. And that made them what? Mord’Sith were for public use or private enjoyment, they didn’t play house. What was Cara expecting, exactly? Kahlan to love her back? Did she really think the confessor wouldn’t get tired of her company; that Kahlan was going to keep her around for the rest of their lives?

Spirits, _did she?_

“Cara.” The Mord’Sith’s head jerked up at Kahlan’s hesitant tone. The confessor’s throat worked as she swallowed nervously. “How did, did you know you were immune?” Fingers tightened around hers, just shy of painful in a way that made Cara’s heart rate pick up.

Taking a deep breath, Cara mentally replayed the question. Kahlan’s words were weighted in a way she didn’t fully understand. She pursed her lips and exhaled slowly. “Not…. When we went hunting, I was touching the tree, when you,” Cara gestured vaguely with her free hand, getting her point across as Kahlan’s skin grew pale.

The confessor stopped walking, pulling them both to a halt and Cara felt a nervous pit open in her stomach again. For the second time that day she found herself at the mercy of Kahlan’s reaction. “Don’t ask me if you don’t want to know,” she snapped, feeling inexplicably defensive. 

“I confessed you because I wasn’t strong enough not to give in to my desires?” Kahlan looked sick. Loathing spread across her face as she dropped Cara’s hand.

Cara grabbed Kahlan’s fingers before she could pull them away. “And I begged you to do it! Do you know how it felt, Kahlan, to have your magic swirling inside of me?” Kahlan’s eyes were open wide and Cara knew she was shouting. “It was the best thing I’ve ever experienced. So you confessed me; so what? To be broken to another is what it is to be Mord’Sith! I _want_ to be yours!” She swallowed thickly. “I want to die for you. And that you couldn’t confess me? That I can be yours that completely, without being broken, without magic, _that_ was the best feeling ever. Don’t take that away. Please.” Cara’s eyes found Kahlan’s, desperately searching for anything other than surprise. Anything that would let her know if she could ask Kahlan to be hers too. To take the pain of her agiel without breaking because Kahlan was already broken, devoted to Cara. And if Cara could ask her to be her mate the way Cara was h—Cara’s eyes widened too and she dropped Kahlan’s hand.

Taking half a step backwards, Cara looked at Kahlan in shock, the Mord’Sith’s chest heaving as she fought with terror for air. She trembled, shoving away the thought, the truth of the depth of her feelings. Cara’s fingers clenched around her agiel and her eyes closed with relief was the pain rolled over her. 

Cool fingers on her wrist drew her back into the world and she let go of her weapon less the agony travel through her flesh and into Kahlan. Lips descended on hers, stopping Cara’s thoughts stopped cold as she lost herself in the taste of Kahlan’s mouth, the way the confessor’s lips and tongue clashed with hers.

Hands on her cheeks pulled her closer, limiting the room for their play in her mouth, so Cara forced her tongue into Kahlan’s. Tasting salt, she opened her eyes and pulled back, finding the confessor’s eyes to be suspiciously bright.

“Are you going to cry every time we kiss?”

Kahlan laughed, tilting her head back and Cara’s eyes trailed down the kissable column of her throat stopping only when they encountered leather to snap back up to Kahlan’s face.

“I don’t think even I could cry that much, Cara,” Kahlan said, amusement dancing in her tone as her cheeks flushed.

Cara swallowed. Hard. “Really?” she asked, to be certain of what Kahlan was really saying.

Glancing down, Kahlan took Cara’s hand in hers again, wrapping her fingers around it possessively. “Yes.”

Cara’s face ached as her lips pulled into a wide smile and refused to return to any type of dignified expression as Kahlan’s lips stretched to match. _Yes!_ For now, it was exactly what she wanted, it was enough. And maybe someday, she could ask for everything. Would ask for everything. Cara shivered. Maybe, but not today.


End file.
